The Measure of Time
by Shigatsu-Writer
Summary: A post-Adolescence of Utena fic. What effects do the outside world have on two people used to living in a "dream"? Well, for starters, there's the clocks...


The problem with the outside world, Utena had decided, was all the clocks.  
  
The place they'd come from, that dream world, that inner vision of a world, hadn't had any at all. In That Place, time hadn't mattered as much, if it had mattered at all. It was a place where everything happened according to plan, so no matter how late you stayed up and no matter how long you seemed to sleep in, you were always exactly on time for school the next morning. No matter how long you dawdled between classes, you always made it to your next subject before the bell.  
  
Time passed dreamlike and slow, if it passed at all. Utena couldn't say with any surety that it did. Events took place that SEEMED to mark the passage of time in an orderly fashion; the sun rose, you went to school, the sun went down, the stars came out, you went to sleep. But nevertheless, everything seemed to drift in an eternal sort of now, so no matter what period of the day it was supposed to be, it all felt like one continuous moment.  
  
But things were very different, in the outside world.  
  
Here there were clocks, ingenious little inventions that marked the passage of time in a reliable and measurable fashion. Tick tick tick, that's three seconds of your life gone with no getting them back. The little hands jerked themselves around, marking the time inexorably, unfalteringly. Tick tick tick, that's three more seconds, and then you realized you were late for work or that you'd just missed the last bus or that the movie had started and you hadn't found a place to park yet.  
  
Utena sipped her coffee and glanced up at the clock on the kitchen wall. The faultless little hands told her it was ten to nine; almost time for work. The people at the video store didn't like it when you were late.  
  
Anthy eased her way into the kitchen, humming to herself. She carried a basket of laundry at her hip. Her long, long hair was held back with a ragged old bandana. Her cat-green eyes were content.  
  
Utena watched her move, watched her set the basket of clean clothes on the kitchen table across from herself. Anthy liked to do laundry on weekends; she always brought the clean clothes over to the kitchen table to fold, and Utena would watch her slim brown hands and their precise movements as the clothes were set to proper order.  
  
Utena took another drink of coffee. This girl, this Rose Bride… Sometimes Utena thought about the past, the dreamlike past, and her memory was filled with roses and water and too many stars. She remembered dancing. She remembered twirling across the glasslike surface of the water that reflected the sky, hand in hand with Anthy… Or was it the sky they glided across, with the water and roses reflected below? Her recollection was fuzzy. Maybe it was both. Maybe it was neither. Maybe it really didn't matter at all.  
  
Arms closed around her shoulders, and Utena jumped, startled.  
  
"You look so far away," Anthy whispered into her hair.  
  
Utena tried to laugh, but couldn't quite do it. "I was just thinking, that's all." Anthy's embrace was warm; she smelled like laundry soap. For a moment everything was dizzy; wasn't she supposed to smell like roses? But the moment passed swiftly, and the laundry soap smell was soft and comforting and very real.  
  
Anthy didn't ask her what she was thinking about; she didn't have to. They both remembered, and they rarely spoke of it, as if mentioning it would make it more real. Or perhaps less real, and for some reason that seemed even worse.  
  
Sometimes at night Utena would dream of flashing swords and tolling bells and roses beyond counting, and she would jolt awake with the thick, heavy flower-perfume still in her nose, lingering on the back of her tongue. Clinging to her skin. She would throw off the covers on those nights and stumble into the bathroom and run the shower water as hot as she could stand it, and she would huddle beneath the searing spray, numb, until Anthy came to get her out and towel her off and lead her gently back to bed. And sometimes Anthy would dream of the same thing, and she would wake up and throw off the bedcovers and go over to the closet and begin rearranging the clothes, over and over, trying to put them into order, until Utena came to shut the closet door and take her frantic hands and pull her gently back into bed. And then they would cling to each other for the rest of the night, and when morning came, the alarm clock would sound, and they'd know it was all real again.  
  
Tick tick tick. The sound of the wall clock was overloud, and Utena looked up at it, startled from her reverie. The hands said it was five to nine. If she didn't leave now, she was going to be late.  
  
Anthy knew it, too. She moved back over to the laundry, her hands beginning to fold automatically, smoothing out wrinkles without even looking at them. "Better hurry and finish your coffee," she said, smiling that serene smile.  
  
Utena gulped down the last of the stuff, making a face. It had gotten cold. Had coffee ever gotten cold in that other place? She didn't know. Somehow, she didn't think so.  
  
She stood, pulling on her windbreaker. The clock stubbornly continued to tick; she was going to have to run if she was going to make it in time. She sprinted for the door.  
  
At the last moment she paused, looking back at Anthy. The other girl's back was turned, and she was humming again, some tuneless bit of melody with no coherent beginning or end.  
  
For a moment, Utena saw her as she had been, in a long gown, a crown of sharp gold adorning her long midnight purple hair. For a moment, she smelled roses.  
  
"You'll be here when I get back," Utena blurted suddenly. It wasn't a question, and yet it was.  
  
Anthy turned, and the illusion shattered. There was no Rose Bride, no princess in a formal gown. There was just a beautiful girl in a faded yellow shirt and a pair of jeans bleached white with age, her hair held back with a dark blue bandana that didn't match. There were no roses, just the smell of soap and coffee.  
  
"I'll be right here," Anthy said. "I'll be right here waiting, Utena."  
  
Utena nodded. She stood in the doorway a moment longer, just looking, eyes full of too much emotion. The clock ticked, telling her she was late and getting later by the moment.  
  
"I'll see you later," she said at last, but what she meant was "I love you." She turned and closed the apartment door behind her.  
  
Anthy smiled and returned to her laundry. "I love you too," she said. She glanced at the clock. Tick tick tick. Three seconds closer to when Utena would be coming home again.  
  
It was comforting to know. 


End file.
